To Spare His Heart
by Valairy Scot
Summary: An insecure Obi-Wan, a sick Qui-Gon and a terrible misunderstanding leads Obi-Wan to make a hard decision "for Qui-Gon's own good." Written long ago in my early writing career as a "JA style story" it's not complicated and is a bit predictable to boot.
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this a long, long time ago and haven't read it in years either, but I had a request to post it. It's written in, oh, sort of a JA style as far as "complexity" goes - just a hurt/comfort piece of a sort, rather predictable and all. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter One. Doing Right, Being Wrong **

It had been the right thing to do, Obi-Wan knew with no doubt at all. It was right, so why was he trying to reassure himself? No, it wasn't that he doubted his decision, or the consequences of going behind Qui-Gon's back. It wasn't fear, for Qui-Gon would come to agree that Obi-Wan had made the correct decision, no matter his ire at the moment.

It was only that his master was disappointed in him. No matter how muddled his thoughts during his illness, no matter the _correctness_ of what Obi-Wan had done, Qui-Gon Jinn was upset that Obi-Wan was responsible for getting them recalled from a very important mission and replaced by another team. The padawan had made a decision for the team, and the master was displeased. Highly displeased.

_I don't care_, the young padawan thought, looking at his master's crossed arms and glare of disapproval._ You almost died with this fever a year ago; I will not risk your health again, even if you will._

But he could not deny that he did, indeed, care. For in his heart of hearts, his biggest fear was of disappointing his master. He had thought he had come close in the past, and the brush only fueled his determination to be better, do better and to never come so close again.

Qui-Gon Jinn was angry, upset and disappointed – all in a quiet and verbally silent way. His was not the emotion of flailed arms or biting words, or cold tone of voice.

It was silence – a cold glare of brilliant blue eyes turned to glacial ice, of firmly closed lips, and waves of cool disappointment that leached the warmth from his padawan's body.

Obi-Wan continued to kneel, head bowed and waiting for his dismissal. He would not speak, he would accept whatever Qui-Gon chose to do, but he would not apologize. He stole a look at the Jedi master, and thought he would far prefer that Qui-Gon actually yell at him or otherwise verbalize his emotions. The words he could accept and dismiss; this cold stare only chilled him.

Finally, the master spoke, words of chipped and fractured ice within the hot furnace that boiled within. "It is done, padawan. We return to the Temple. You will spend your time in reflection and meditation until our arrival. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, and fled, bright burning spots of red on his cheekbones, leaving in his wake soft tremors of rebelliousness and stubborn determination that leaked past his tight shields. He tightened his lips and blinked away the tears behind his eyes. _He will come to see that I only did what I must. He will_. _Master Yoda himself said that I did the correct thing_. _He will forgive me, when he is well._

Obi-Wan was troubled, for he was only fourteen – nearly fifteen. He had thought his master and he had come to some kind of mutual understanding and trust after this time together. The doubt had never been on his side of the bond; it had been Qui-Gon's hesitation and uneasiness that had kept a sliver of distance between them.

_I am not he, and I will never betray you_, Obi-Wan thought, catching a strangled gasp of pain and breathing it out. _Master, anything I have done, or may do, is never to betray you. You may not understand, you may not agree, but whatever it is that I have done or will do – it will never be a betrayal. Even this…though I know you feel betrayed._

* * *

Obi-Wan had decided on his own to contact the Temple to ask for a replacement team when Qui-Gon had first gotten sick. He had not been – technically - specifically forbidden to do so, for Qui-Gon had never dreamed that Obi-Wan would take such action on his own initiative.

The stubborn Jedi master had insisted he was well enough to continue the mission, but his temperature had risen and his thoughts were tumbling. The Force itself was disturbed about him. Obi-Wan knew it was best to have another team replace them for this negotiation, and he didn't hesitate to contact the Temple. He would face his master's wrath after his recovery, and by then, Qui-Gon would agree that Obi-Wan had taken the only prudent course of action.

The two Jedi packed their minimal gear in silence. Obi-Wan kept worried eyes on his master, for the fever and chills, and racking cough were getting worse. He didn't dare ask how his master felt, for he continued to feel the cold waves of hurt roll through the Force. He kept silent and his head down, lips stubbornly shut.

Wrapped in their cloaks, they stood on the landing platform awaiting the ship that would bring their replacements and return them to the Temple. Side by side they stood, within arms reach of each other, and so far apart that an entire galaxy might have separated them.

The ship settled and lowered the ramp, and the replacement team strode down. Obi-Wan recognized neither Jedi. Both apprentices bowed as the two masters nodded to each other.

"Master Jinn, I trust you are well enough to make the trip," the newcomer stated.

"I am well enough, thank you, Master Ceil," Qui-Gon replied, in a voice hoarse and raspy from illness and disuse. "Despite reports, I am not at death's door."

Master Ceil glanced sideways at Padawan Kenobi, standing silent and flushed and a glimmer of understanding showed within his eyes. "I am sure the Council knows what they are doing," he said neutrally, but he threw a look at the padawan that clearly indicated he thought the padawan had behaved correctly in this situation. Obi-Wan nodded, just a slight inclination of his head, in acknowledgement, not wanting his master to be aware of the slight byplay.

"May my padawan have a minute with yours, Master Jinn?" The voice was smooth, giving no hint as to why. Qui-Gon grunted, and nodded his head in assent, and walked aboard the ship as the other padawan spoke, his wording such that should Qui-Gon overhear, he would only think that two friends were greeting each other.

"Hey, Obi-Wan, haven't seen you in a while, how are you?" The padawan, a few years older than Obi-Wan, winked at him and whispered for his ears alone, "I'm Padawan Jiam d'Alvo, should your master ask."

"Jiam, I am concerned for my master," he replied, letting his voice carry his true concern, and nodding his understanding.

Once Qui-Gon had disappeared into the ship, Master Ceil placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I have a message from Master Yoda. He said you have done well and do not be concerned." He smiled as Obi-Wan smiled wanly and thanked him for the message. "Is Master Jinn truly up to the trip?"

"Without the stress of this negotiation, I believe so, Master," Obi-Wan answered.

"Then the Force be with you both."

* * *

Qui-Gon had walked up the ramp and paused inside the doorway, leaning against the hull, feeling incredibly weak. He heard a faint murmur of voices, then silence. Obi-wan was no doubt following him into the ship. He would not be found leaning against a wall, thoughts swimming and all but ready to collapse.

He didn't want to admit that Obi-Wan was right – he _was_ sick. Very sick. He drew his shields tight and used all his willpower to pull himself upright and stare at his padawan as Obi-Wan hit the release and the ramp slid into the ship.

"I trust your visit went well," he clipped his words.

"Well enough, Master," Obi-Wan said tranquilly, but a spot of color bloomed on his cheeks. To his relief, Qui-Gon didn't press him for details, for he had no wish to lie to his master, nor could he. He would never lie to Qui-Gon. The Jedi master merely grunted and said he would be resting.

"Join me up front, padawan?" the Jedi pilot asked, poking his head through the door to the flight deck.

"Thank you, but no," Obi-Wan declined. He was under orders to seclude himself in meditation and reflection and he would obey his master's command. It was a small transport and there was not much room, just a small cabin, several open seats, and a small cargo hold, currently empty and devoid of any softness or comfort. Perfect for a Jedi padawan in disgrace with his master, Obi-Wan thought. He sat and slipped into a meditative posture.

He was startled back to himself by images of searing heat and aching muscles, a face dripping with sweat. "Master!" he gasped, knowing the source. He rushed to the cabin, knocked lightly, and when he received no answer, opened the door and prepared to face his master's wrath. But Qui-Gon was twisted and feverish, and hardly aware of his padawan's entrance.

"Master?" Obi-Wan breathed, but Qui-Gon didn't respond. Gathering his courage, Obi-Wan slipped over to the Jedi master's side and felt his forehead. Qui-Gon was burning up, and mumbling. He was very sick, Obi-Wan realized, even sicker than he had been, and all his fears returned, doubled and tripled what they had been. He hit the ship intercom button and notified the pilot that the Jedi master was much sicker, and once they exited hyperspace, to contact the Temple and have healers stand by.

That done, Obi-Wan wetted a cloth and patted his master's face. He did not yet know how to reach inside Qui-Gon's body and try to help him heal, but he could send soothing waves of the Force towards him and hope the Jedi master would somehow be able to gain strength from it.

He sat and worried by his master's side, until his head drooped and he laid his head at his master's side. He would just lie quietly, just a minute, soothe the weariness in his own body….and he awoke, to find Qui-Gon looking at him through bruised and brittle eyes that sparkled with his fever.

"Padawan," he whispered, and moved his hand so that it lay over Obi-Wan's, and for just a minute, Obi-Wan thought he saw a glimmer of a smile on his master's lips as Qui-Gon's eyes drooped shut. "Padawan…you shouldn't be here."

Obi-Wan all but gaped at him. "But…but, master! You're sick!" he protested.

"Go. Now." Qui-Gon was slipping back into his fevered dream… don't let Obi-Wan get sick…he was so terribly sick before and I thought I would lose him. I can't lose him…my padawan. Go away…don't risk catching this…."go away, padawan," he said clearly, before he started shaking and huddled within the bunk.

Obi-Wan slowly stood and stared at his master, and hung his head. "Yes, Master," he said softly and stumbled out of the cabin and back to his quiet spot in the cargo hold, where he sat on the cold floor and put his face into his hands. Qui-Gon would never forgive him. How could they go on, together? He thought his heart would break.


	2. Chapter 2: Ties that Bind

**Chapter Two. The Ties That Bind **

A team of healers awaited their arrival. They quickly whisked Qui-Gon upstairs to the Healers' Ward, reassuring his worrying padawan that, while he was indeed very sick, he was in absolutely no danger of dying. They reassured him that he had done the right thing by getting Qui-Gon to medical treatment, and commended his initiative.

But Obi-Wan wasn't reassured, for he was both worried about his master, and their future together. Clearly, they had not established the strong master-padawan bond that Obi-Wan so longed for. Qui-Gon tolerated him, was all, and his tolerance was currently quite low.

Obi-Wan was sure that it was not just the fever speaking, for Qui-Gon had too often watched him from hooded eyes and with cautious vigilance. Obi-Wan wasn't sure when he first became aware of this or if his slowly growing awareness of the Force now allowed him to sense what he missed seeing before. It was apparent that the fever had just loosened his master's tongue and let him speak what was in his mind, hidden these two years.

Obi-Wan decided he would ignore his own worries for the moment and only be concerned that his master get well. Maybe then he would learn just how disappointed Qui-Gon was in him, and if he would ever be forgiven – and how he could get back into his master's good graces.

Master Yoda had approved of his actions, but that meant nothing if Qui-Gon withheld his after he recovered. Surely, there must have been other times and ways he had disappointed his master, which was why this had only made this latest transgression so unforgivable.

It wasn't just Qui-Gon's feverish words that so hurt him, for he knew from experience that fever dreams often resulted in strange mumblings and absurd thoughts – he remembered, according to Qui-Gon's retelling, that it was his own mumblings that he had wanted a snuggly T'k'ta stuffed toy to cuddle when he had been so sick himself, a toy he had put aside at age three and not thought of since.

Sick as they both had been, Qui-Gon had made the healers borrow the toy from the crèche, threatening to haul his own sick self after it himself if they would not. Obi-Wan had struggled blearily awake when the toy had been slipped into his arms, and found himself hugging the toy as if he would never let go. He had caught his master's eye on him, and his grin, and even as desperately sick as he had been he had been mortified. Qui-Gon had sent a reassuring wave of the Force to him and calmly told him to enjoy the toy while he had the chance, for a boy of nearly fourteen was never going to get that chance again.

He had blushed, and Qui-Gon gently laughed, not bothering to hide his amusement. And ill as he had been, he had been happy. For he thought his master had finally, fully accepted him, and let go of the faint reservations of doubt that he had continued to harbor. And he had grinned sloppily, and fallen back asleep, the toy still cradled in his arms.

His happiness at achieving the understanding and acceptance with his master he had so longed for slowly began to disintegrate as he had become aware of the silent watchfulness. There was still a part of Qui-Gon he couldn't reach, so he had tried harder to be better, to be worthy of his position as Padawan to Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

He had spent much of his recuperation meditating and studying, for he had been physically weak for a while. Even as he had grown slowly more attuned to the Force, he continued to mature physically and emotionally. Steadied by the guiding hand of his master, the impetuous and slightly reckless boy he had been was steadying down into a more thoughtful and reflective boy.

He thought Qui-Gon approved, but it hadn't affected the Jedi master's attitude towards him. Qui-Gon tended him with just as much care – but no more –than that he lavished on his plants and flowers. He was serene, patient and impersonal.

His padawan might have been content with that, except for the sense of cool aloofness and indefinable distance that had not seemed to decrease with time.

Everything was perfect and perfectly in order – only he wanted more. This longing to be _wanted_ puzzled him, as well. It was not the Jedi way to need approval from another, but to seek it from within.

That was something to ponder at another time, for now, the only thing he wanted to think about was his master getting well.

* * *

Qui-Gon's coughing and fever made him sick enough that the healers wanted to keep him under a watchful eye in the healers' ward. He spent most of his time in restless sleep. Grumbling in his rare moments of clarity that he wasn't all that sick, he pestered the healers that he wanted to return to his own quarters if all they were going to do was check in on him every once in a while.

They refused, in part because they also wanted to give his padawan a chance to rest, for they knew if Qui-Gon was allowed to recuperate in his own quarters, his young apprentice would run himself ragged trying to take care of his master. Many padawans, and most masters, would do the same for the other and usually ended up wearying out the other one.

By keeping the sick Jedi in the healers ward, the healers also had a chance to keep an eye on the healthy member of the pair, for the one not sick tended to spend a good deal of time with the other anyway. With Jinn-Kenobi, though, one always seemed to haunt the healers ward when the other was resident up there.

Now it was Obi-Wan Kenobi haunting the place; he had taken up residence in a chair at his master's bedside, only leaving for his classes, and then reluctantly. At least Padawan Kenobi had the sense to stay out of the healers' way and stay quietly in the background, often taking care of his master's needs before the healers themselves knew of them.

When he wasn't complaining, or asking for liquids, or his covers to be pulled up or pulled off, Qui-Gon spent his waking moments in dazed contemplation. Often, his eyes rested on his padawan without comment, for even in his moments of clarity he found himself confused and only half aware. Sometimes he blinked uncertainly, thinking he had a need to say something, anything, to the sad-eyed boy always at his side, but his mind would grow dull and he would drift off into fitful sleep until the next time he roused.

* * *

"Master. Master?" a soft whisper reached him, once, when he thought he was both awake and dreaming. He turned his eyes to the side, and weakly shook his head. Obi-Wan should be in class…studying…with his age mates. He should not be worrying. A young boy fast growing into a young man should not be glued to the bedside of a sick man, with hopeful eyes that his master was getting better because the feverish eyes actually seemed to focus on him.

Obi-Wan. Jedi initiates and padawans were never just children. They left their childhood behind them and faced things no child should face, because they were Jedi – their Force sensitivity a curse and a blessing both. Qui-Gon had never felt deprived, and was sure that Obi-Wan didn't either, but with the hindsight of long years of adulthood behind him, he rather regretted that Obi-Wan would never have a chance to be just a kid.

He sighed at the thought, for far too many of the galaxy's children faced bleak lives and uncertain futures. Being young was no guarantee of a happy carefree childhood, either.

But while his young apprentice was a Jedi Padawan, and therefore would never have an average childhood, he was still a boy, and a boy should leave the nursing to the healers. Obi-Wan had too little time to himself anyway. He never relaxed and let himself just be Obi-Wan; he always was studying, sparring, or trying too hard to be the perfect padawan. Not for the first time, Qui-Gon wished he had known the boy when he had been young and far more carefree, before he turned into this intense and serious boy.

Not that the boy didn't have a sense of humor – far from it. He was one of the jokesters of the Temple, and one of the first to be suspected when something was afoot. As he matured, his pranks had matured into jokes, and then into dry witticisms. Qui-Gon had approved, for a padawan should take his training seriously and Obi-Wan had thrown himself into it with all the intense effort he had put into everything else.

That had been why he had been so amused when his sick little apprentice had thrown himself into that ridiculous stuffed toy from the crèche. Obi-Wan only seemed to be that little boy when he was sick.

Sick! Merciful Force, he never wanted to be so worried again. He had seen the healers hovering over his padawan, their mutterings and constant attendance as the fever took its toll on his padawan's young and strong body, trying to shut his organs down…trying to send that precious life into the Force forever.

He had grown watchful, concerned and if he was honest – fearful. He now knew the hurt that would eat the life from him should something happen to Obi-Wan. He needed to protect him from harm, for that was the only way to protect himself.

Force, he couldn't bear it, to see the life again slowly leaching from those bright eyes, the vibrant soul shriveling and dying and - . What if Obi-Wan caught this from him? What if this time – Qui-Gon half rose up on one elbow and looked his padawan in the eye.

"Go," he muttered with all the sternness he could summon. "Go….away. Go…st..stay away." The effort exhausted him; he lay down and closed his eyes, falling back asleep.

"Master!"

A hurt whisper almost reached him, almost roused him from his thoughts. Had he said something – he didn't remember, and why did he feel like he had just exerted himself?

"Please…don't send me away, Master. Not now. Let me stay here with you. I worry more if I am not at your side."

"For now…." His words drifted off as he fell back asleep, not knowing how his last words gladdened a boy's heart.

Obi-Wan stayed at his side, only leaving when necessary for his classes, sleeping in a chair at his master's side, always solicitous, and always tending to his master.

The healers weren't surprised when constant worry began to weary the young Jedi, though they assured him his master was merely sick and would shortly recover. When Obi-Wan's eyes grew red and heavy with his vigil, they decided to step in.

"Get some rest of your own," the healers urged him, seeking to dislodge him from Qui-Gon's side, but the young Jedi stubbornly refused. It wasn't until a Jedi Master gave him a direct order to both eat regularly and to sleep in his own quarters that Obi-Wan obeyed, a look of hurt protest stilled at the command.

He returned to his quarters that first night and shivered, for the place seemed cold and unwelcoming. Obi-Wan looked around uneasily, for something seemed wrong and yet everything was in its place. Not enough time had passed to lay more than a fine sheen of dust over things. The cut flowers in Qui-Gon's room were drooping from lack of water, but hadn't lost their petals; the leaves of the living plants seemed to curl towards him, asking for his attention in his master's absence.

Then he realized: his master was not there, and the warm comfort that seemed to fill the very air in Qui-Gon's presence was absent. He wandered around absently, unable to sit still, unable to meditate and unable to study, so he dusted and watered the plants and tidied up. When he was done, he was still restless. Sleep eluded him, though he was tired.

After several long and restless hours in bed, he got up with no clear sense of what he planned to do to occupy the longer, silent hours of the night. The open door to his master's room seemed to beckon him.

He hesitated, then walked into Qui-Gon's room, where an essence of his master seemed to linger, and curled up on the foot of the bed. It gave him comfort, and he soon fell asleep.

He had to blink when he first awoke, for he wasn't in his own room. He lifted his head and looked around, and found he had curled up with a pillow that Qui-Gon's head had rested on, only a few nights back. As a Jedi Padawan of nearly fifteen, he felt a bit embarrassed, but admitted to himself with a sigh that he would probably sleep there each night until his master reclaimed his bed for himself. When Qui-Gon was well, and things were back to normal.

That is, if things ever returned to normal. He still didn't know if his master would forgive him his disobedience, for there just had been too many looks and too many hidden thoughts preceding this incident. He couldn't forget Qui-Gon's careful observances of him, the shaking of his head or a pursing of his lips. This last incident was not an isolated and easily forgotten event: he could not place the blame for the words at the fever's workings.

He vowed to work twice as hard to be worthy of his master's care and teachings. He owed the Jedi master no less than his best, for it had been Qui-Gon who had rescued him from a life in service to the Agri-Corps. It was Qui-Gon who had saved a young boy's dream, and thereby claimed his heart and loyalty.

He owed everything to Qui-Gon: his master deserved the best from him. But perhaps…his best would never be good enough. The Jedi deserved not just the best from him – but _the best_. Would he ever live up to his master's expectations?

Such thoughts were – well, pitiful – he thought gloomily. The expectations were ones he placed on himself, and he knew it was not fair to place the burden on his master – the very thought of doing so made him uncomfortable. He had never – at least until recently – actually thought that Qui-Gon might regret accepting a near-reject sent to the Agri-Corps, for his master had never expressed any remorse or second thoughts. Not that he had expressed any real words of praise, either. Obi-Wan wasn't really sure where he stood with his master, but found reassuring the half smile or gleam of approval he sometimes saw in his eyes.

But always, behind his eyes, there was that cool watchfulness.

He always had wanted to do well, throwing himself full force into anything and everything, only this wish to succeed had turned into a need to _excel_, for maybe then his master might actually come to care for him, rather than tending him with his somewhat aloof and impersonal care rather than with real warmth and affection.

_I'm just _a_ padawan learner_ _to him_, he thought, tended with as much care as a leaf as he had seen Qui-Gon nurture into a rooted plant, or the various strays he tended to pick up. Worthy of his attention, for all things were worthy of his attention.

Obi-Wan wished that he were worthy of his love, not just his care. Perhaps that was why he didn't mind too much when he was sick or totally exhausted, for those were the times he felt his master actually cared _about _him, not just _for_ him. Grumble as he might at the time, he was content when Qui-Gon would put his arms around him and pull him into a hug, for there was no place as comfortable as in his master's arms.

Dismissing these unproductive and, well, _childish_ thoughts as unbecoming for a Jedi, Obi-Wan grabbed a quick bite of breakfast and hurried upstairs at first light to check on his master.

When it was time for classes, he reluctantly left Qui-Gon's side and trudged to class, smiling absently at his friends as they fell into step with him.

"He'll be all right," his friend Ban Eerin said consolingly, guessing what made her lively friend so unusually quiet. She was already showing a talent for taking care of her friends, and many of her friends expected she would someday turn to healing. Her quiet voice and soft concern for others would translate well into a healer's skills.

As usual, Bant made Obi-Wan smile, for Bant always kept his spirits up. Beside her, his friend Garen was quick to tease him.

"You're too attached to him," his friend Garen accused him, laughing as Obi-Wan flushed. It wasn't too far from the truth, but Obi-Wan knew the Jedi stand on attachments. He wasn't attached to his master; he rightly appreciated and honored him, but attached - ?

He had to admit, though, that Garen was right. Qui-Gon was supposed to be just his master and his mentor, but he was far more to him. He was a welcome fixture in his heart. He just wished the reverse were true.


	3. Chapter 3 Just an Ordinary Padawan

**Chapter Three. Just an Ordinary Padawan**

"No," he denied quietly. "He's sick. I need to reassure myself he's not getting worse – you remember how sick he was a year ago." He forbore to mention that he had been just as sick, if not sicker, and the two of them had been lying in the same room, trying to keep a worried eye on each other.

"C'mon, Obi, we know how much you respect him and care for him," Garen said, punching him in the arm.

"Stop teasing him, Garen," Bant defended her friend. "You know he's worried about his master. Now's not the time."

"I do respect him," Obi-Wan agreed, "and maybe I'm just a bit attached to him, but no more so than you two with your own masters." He couldn't help feeling just a big smug when they fell silent at his words.

"So how come we never see you outside of class, Obi?" Bant asked, slipping her hand through his arm and looking at him with concern

"I'm supposed to spend my free time in meditation and reflection until he tells me otherwise," Obi-Wan admitted, ducking his head in embarrassment. "With him sick, though, I guess you could say I do my meditation while watching over him." For a minute, his eyes twinkled at his unorthodox interpretation of following his master's wishes, though he quickly sobered as he realized Qui-Gon would not be pleased if he knew.

"Master was really upset with me for getting us called off this last mission, and, well, I disappointed him. He's not happy with me. Actually," he sighed and admitted the truth, "I think he's been disappointed in me for some time."

He could sense his friends' concern on his behalf, and told them what happened.

"I was trying to meditate on the ship as he told me, when I realized he was really sick. I felt I had to go to him, but he told me to – go away, I wasn't supposed to be there. So, you see, I let him down a second time by again not obeying him."

"He was sick, Obi," Bant offered, sensing her friend's unhappiness, trying to give him a ray of hope. "He wasn't thinking straight. Everything will be okay when he gets well. Master Yoda said so."

"I suppose so," he said slowly. He didn't wish to burden his friends with his fears, for Master Yoda had said only that he had done the right thing, not that Qui-Gon would forgive him. He would far rather have done the wrong thing and been forgiven for it, than the reverse.

As soon as classes were over, he hurried upstairs and slipped into the chair by Qui-Gon's side. The Jedi was still sleeping. He had done little but sleep since their return to the Temple.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" he asked hopefully, brushing a strand of damp hair off his master's face as a healer entered. Vari V'keny, the healer, came over and sat down next to him, taking one of his hands in hers and smiling at him.

"Of course he is," she said gently, patting his hand. She had been taking care of Obi-Wan since he was about four, and was already resigned to the fact that the young man seemed all but certain to follow in his master's footsteps – frequent visits to the healers ward. It had become a joke – the healers could almost chart each moon turn by one or the other showing up.

Next time, she supposed, Obi-Wan would be the one hurt or sick, and Qui-Gon would be the one haunting the place. The healers had just about decided to name a room in their honor and hold it vacant for their next visit.

"I don't suppose I should give you a physical, just so I can reassure your master that you're okay when he awakens," she teased, nodding her head at Qui-Gon. She laughed when Obi-Wan squirmed and shook his head no. For a Jedi, the boy was notoriously shy physically – rather strange, for among a Jedi's training was learning detachment, including such emotions as modesty. Who knew what strange cultural customs a Jedi might face someday?

"Okay handsome, I'll give you a break today," she grinned at him.

Obi-Wan ducked his head and gave a boyish grin at her use of her nickname for him. "I don't know why you insist on calling me that," he complained. "I'm only ordinary."

"You are quite extraordinary, Padawan Kenobi," she corrected. "That's why your master is so proud of you – not that he'd ever tell you that himself – wouldn't want to give you an exaggerated sense of your own importance."

Obi-Wan stared at her, at his master and back at her, wide-eyed with doubt. "Uh, huh," he denied.

"Uh, huh, too," she said. She took his padawan braid, grown now to the curve of his shoulder and neck, and tugged on it. "Not bad for a little boy," referring to the various beads woven into it, each a sign of a skill mastered.

"I'm not little," he said automatically, for his age mates had teased him about his height as they shot up in height and he merely grew. "Just not tall."

"Oh, my mistake, just-not-tall Kenobi. Or do you prefer 'handsome'?"

Obi-Wan groaned and turned pink under her good-natured teasing. "Just so long as you never call me by either name when anyone else is within hearing," he grumbled. "I still don't know why you want to call me that."

"Because you looked so absolutely wretched the first time I set eyes on you," she said firmly. "I knew there had to be a good-looking youngling underneath that puffy red nose and wet eyes and pale face and –"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. He had heard the story before – he had been sick with the Dinubian Flu. That had been a particularly virulent form of the flu and had devastated several planets. The Jedi Temple hadn't been immune to it, but luckily no Jedi had died from it. He didn't remember much, but he remembered the soft arms and kind voice of a healer who promised to take care of him. He had thrown himself into her arms and cried tears of pain and sickness in between spells of virulent nausea.

"Okay, okay," she relented. "So, Healer Kenobi – you want to know how Master Jinn is doing, right?" She got technical, and was pleased that Obi-Wan nodded seriously along with her explanation. The young man had obviously decided to get familiar with medical terms and treatments. She supposed it was only natural, considering the predicaments Jinn-Kenobi got into.

"Bottom line is he's just plain old sick and is going to get better," Obi-Wan summed up, with a happy grin. "Not the flu, just sick, with a touch of exhaustion and dehydration thrown in."

"Yup. So stop worrying so much," she admonished. "Now, if you hadn't contacted us, then it might have gotten really serious, since he wouldn't have taken care of himself. He would have concentrated on his all-too important mission to worry about himself." She left with a friendly grin.

Obi-Wan sighed with relief that at least he didn't have to worry quite so much, but his master was still quite sick and feverish, and he would worry until his master had fully recovered.

* * *

He had been so busy worrying about his master that he had quite forgotten all about the mission or his contacting the Temple and getting them pulled off it. When he was asked to come to Master Yoda's quarters, he gulped and reluctantly straightened his clothing and marched there with a serious frown on his face and his heart beating fast.

Hadn't Master Yoda told him he had done the right thing? Had he changed his mind, now that it turned out Qui-Gon was merely just really sick, and not near as terribly ill as he'd thought?

Trying to slow his thumping heart, he took several deep breaths to calm himself and announced his presence. Yoda was waiting for him, leaning on his gimer stick and staring thoughtfully at him. Behind him, Obi-Wan could see Master Windu, sitting casually. Both of them! Seeking his calm center, and finding it no easier to find than usual, he took a breath and walked in at Yoda's gesture.

"Come in, Padawan," the old Jedi said, not unkindly. "The healers say your master will be much better within the week."

"Yes, Master, that is what they told me," he said quietly. The two Jedi sat and looked at him, and it was all Obi-Wan could do not to hang his head as he stood before them.

"Tell me, Padawan, what made you decide to contact the Temple?" Mace asked, leaning forward and looking Obi-Wan in the face.

"Master – we were told how important this negotiation was. When my master started coughing so badly, and seemed to get all disoriented – I thought he was too sick."

"Hmm. You didn't ask him if he was able to continue?" Mace asked.

"Yes, Master, I did, and he just stared at me and crossed his arms. I knew he was – upset, but Master, he didn't tell me not to contact the Temple. I didn't disobey him, truly I did not." His words were tumbling out, no matter how hard he tried to speak calmly. Mace looked at Yoda, and Yoda merely grunted and swiveled his ears.

"Told you, I did, that you had done the proper thing," Yoda said severely, and Obi-Wan relaxed a little. He wasn't in trouble! "Wish we do to hear the whole story from you, no more, no less. In trouble you are not, young Obi-Wan."

"No, you contacted us and let us make the decision, which was proper for a young padawan when his master was incapable of making such a decision," Mace added, frowning, but Obi-Wan didn't flinch at the expression, for the Force was running quiet and serene in the chamber. It even felt approving.

"Had Master Qui-Gon forbidden you to contact us, what would you have done, Padawan?" Mace continued, leaning forward again.

"Done, Master?" Obi-Wan blinked. "I suppose I would have obeyed him."

"And risked such an important mission?"

What answer did they want? Admit that he would have disobeyed a direct order if he thought it necessary? Say that he would never disobey his master? It was an impossible answer. It was strictly forbidden for a padawan to disobey his master, or any master. It was also forbidden to knowingly jeopardize a mission. But he could only answer one way: with the truth.

"I would have obeyed my master without question as long as I could, and – and when I knew that he could not continue," his breath caught in his throat, "I would have disobeyed orders and asked the Temple to intervene. Masters. I would not risk my master's health or the mission, even if the price was my disobedience."

He looked back and forth between Yoda and Mace, wondering what they thought of his answer. He thought he caught a glimmer of satisfaction, but he wasn't sure. He stood quietly, awaiting their pronouncement.

"Good judgment the boy has," Yoda said, turning to Mace. "Commend you, we do. To your master's side you may return."

"Thank you, Masters," he said, relieved at how the conversation had gone. He bowed and was nearly out the door when Yoda added, "Understand Master Jinn will when he is well and agree with your action he will."

A spot of red bloomed in his cheeks as he wondered just how much they had sensed of his uncertainty on that very subject. At least they hadn't reproved him, for he knew as a Jedi, he should not care so much. He had never found it easy to release his emotions into the Force.

He wondered if he ever would.


	4. Chapter 4 Realization of Betrayal

**Chapter Four Realization of Betrayal**

An evening spent in meditation eased his doubts, or at least removed them from the front of his mind. He trusted Master Yoda, and the Jedi master had told him that Qui-Gon would come to see that he had behaved only as he should. He also trusted his master, for the Jedi was a reasonable and sensible man, not given to holding grudges.

Perhaps that was why Obi-Wan was still a bit uneasy, for Qui-Gon was not one to mince his words. He usually chose his words wisely, and meant what he said. He always tried to be kind and gentle with his admonishments and commands, never harsh spoken. There was never any hidden meaning behind his words.

Since he always meant what he said, and said what he meant, Obi-Wan knew the Jedi master had to have been truly displeased that his apprentice had disobeyed his direct order to spend his free time in meditation and reflection until directed otherwise. Willful disobedience could result in a severe rebuke. Open defiance was not tolerated for a Jedi Padawan.

Twice, Qui-Gon had ordered his padawan from his side, once on the transport and once in the healers ward, before he had relented that second time.

Despite that, Obi-Wan was determined to stay at his master's side as long as he was allowed to do so, for he owed his beloved master more than mere obedience, he had a duty to look after him. That had been part of their oath to each other, when Qui-Gon had accepted him as his padawan.

He would not be forsworn.

The healers only rolled their eyes at him when they found him back at his master's side, datapad forgotten in his lap, softly speaking away as if the feverish master could hear his words.

"You back, handsome?" Healer V'keny greeted him with a friendly tousle of his short-cropped hair when she arrived on duty and checked on Qui-Gon. "Doesn't look like you're getting much studying done, the way you were talking away there."

The young Jedi shrugged helplessly. "I thought he might feel better if he knew I was here speaking to him, even though he told me I should not be here."

The healer assured him that his very presence would be a comfort, and was pleased to note that Obi-Wan had turned his attention to his studies by the time she left. He was so attentive that he didn't notice when Qui-Gon opened his eyes and blearily gazed at his padawan, head hunched over a datapad. A glimmer of amusement touched the feverish eyes, and he settled back with a soft sigh.

"Master!" Obi-Wan jumped to his feet, but Qui-Gon had gone back to sleep, muttering something about the Living Force and nourishing sprouts. None of it made any sense to Obi-Wan, but then, he didn't expect it would. It did give him an idea, and he almost kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner.

When he returned after his dinner, he brought a small plant and carefully placed it where his master could see it when he next awoke. Qui-Gon would draw strength from such a green, living thing, he was sure, for Qui-Gon took his greatest pleasure from living things.

* * *

Qui-Gon stirred and rubbed a hand over his face. He was sweating, hot; he pushed the covers off him. He dragged his eyes open and they focused on a green plant, alive and full of energy. Just looking at it made him feel better.

He turned his head and frowned, for he thought he had seen his padawan hunched in a chair at his side, intent on some datapad or other. He remembered hearing his voice, deeper now than a year ago, softly speaking to him – words he did not remember, but the familiar voice soothing.

What had he wanted to say to his padawan? His faithful padawan…he couldn't remember. He knew he wanted to tell the young man something – no, needed to tell him something. Something to do with regrets? Forgiveness?

Had Obi-Wan done something he needed to be forgiven for? No, he knew that wasn't it…the boy made mistakes…but mistakes didn't need forgiveness. He never needed to be forgiven, for he never did anything to be forgiven for. He only needed correction and guidance. No, he mentally shook his head. That wasn't it.

He was sure it had _something _to do with forgiveness. Did he need Obi-Wan to forgive him for something? No, that couldn't be it either, for Obi-Wan had been at his side – he scarcely awoke without seeing him by his bedside, and all he sensed from him was worry and concern.

Maybe he was just dreaming….

Qui-Gon awoke with a start, for a lightsaber was being dragged across his chest…_it hurt, how it hurt…he was burning. The pain…._

He opened his eyes and his padawan was by his side. Braid below his shoulders, sharp eyes taunting him…_mad eyes. A cruel smile as his hand held the lightsaber that was sizzling across his chest, now raised for the plunge into his heart –_

"No!" he commanded, but the smile only grew crueler on that face, his padawan's face. It couldn't be…his padawan – why was his padawan trying to kill him?

"Go…'way. Don't want you…don't need…don't love…not _him._ Love _him_, not you. Go!" he commanded angrily. "Never should'a accepted you…."

* * *

Obi-Wan was shaking his master's shoulder, distress in his eyes as his master railed against something only he could see. "Master," he said tremulously, eyes wide with fear, but Qui-Gon pushed his hand aside and started weakly batting at him.

"Master?" he tried again, and _master_, through the bond. "Wake up, Master. It's me, Obi-Wan, it's a dream. Please, Master."

"O-Ob'Wan?" he struggled. "Pad'wan. No, not…mine. Never – wanted." And his head fell back against the pillow as Obi-Wan stared down at him in shock, wanting desperately to cry but too numb to do so.

"Never…wanted….Ob'Wan….Go…'way. Don't…don't want…betrayed me," and the words were getting angrier and angrier, directed at him. His master opened his eyes and fixed him with a baleful look, and the flow of words only got worse. "I don't want you. You're not him, you can never be him."

Obi-Wan made a little "oh" of protest and froze.

_Master, please…it's me, it's Obi-Wan_, he sent through the bond, and the angry surge of denial nearly threw him to his feet. The feeling was unmistakable – disappointment, betrayal and rejection. Qui-Gon told him he didn't want him, had never wanted him, and now he knew it was true what he had always feared.

The young Jedi turned white and stumbled to his feet. It was true: the bond never lied, for emotions never lied. And the cold wave of the Force that had slapped across his mind was all too real.

"Never be…him…don't want…you…Ob'Wan…." The words taunted him, choked his throat. He had never tried to replace his master's beloved and lost padawan, only tried to be himself, the best himself he could be - to be accepted for himself. It had all been for naught.

"Betrayed me…betrayed…."

Betrayal was the worst thing that could happen between a master and a padawan, for the relationship was so dependent on mutual trust and respect that inevitably the relationship crumbled.

Qui-Gon had been betrayed once before and taken it badly. Now he had been betrayed by a second padawan, and Obi-Wan suddenly realized the enormity of Qui-Gon's disappointment. He had been so focused on his own hurt – he hadn't stopped to consider how Qui-Gon had felt. He suddenly felt two inches tall and incredibly dense.

Obi-Wan was almost sick to his stomach. He had thought he was doing the right thing, knew actually that it was, but it had been such a terribly wrong thing to do to his master. Now he knew that Qui-Gon would never forgive him, for no heart could forgive multiple betrayals. Not even a Jedi's heart.

He fled, the words burning a hole in his heart, and in his blind rush, he brushed against the plant, knocking it to the floor where the bowl lay shattered and the plant dying, its roots torn from its stalk. A once living thing of beauty; now dying along with a young boy's heart.


	5. Chapter 5 To Spare His Heart

**Chapter Five To Spare His Heart**

Yoda was surprised when Obi-Wan asked for a meeting with him. The young Jedi had been all too attentive to his master – forced to his own rest – yet now left his master's side to seek an audience with Yoda himself. It wasn't to discuss his actions, for they had already had this conversation and he knew the young Jedi's mind had been put at ease.

He sensed the youngster was uneasy, determined, and hurting. Since he and Obi-Wan had always had some sort of connection, he found puzzling this unusual hesitation to speak and his shields were drawn tight against something.

"How is Master Qui-Gon faring, young Obi-Wan?" he asked, wondering if Master Jinn's health was behind this meeting. "Turn for the worse, he has not taken, has he?"

Obi-Wan's face seemed almost to crumple; Yoda could feel the effort that Obi-Wan made to smooth his face. "He is still quite sick, but he will recover and his fever should break shortly according to the healers," he said quietly. He looked at his hands and took a breath before raising his head to look Yoda in the eye.

"Master Yoda…I – wish to be reassigned to another master if possible. I don't think I can continue my training under Master Qui-Gon."

_Impossible, this is_, Yoda thought. He knew the Force intended for them to be together. Instead, he said, "Why say you this?"

Obi-Wan was silent, gathering his thoughts. _He doesn't want me, I can never be what he wants – I need his acceptance. He needs to be free, to choose another who will make him happy.. I have hurt him – I have betrayed him, and he will never forgive me._

"Master Qui-Gon has not accepted in his heart that his previous padawan is lost. He was not ready to accept another. I know that now. My…pairing with him causes him regret and pain." He looked at his fingers, callused from so much training, usually a reminder of the many sparring sessions with his beloved master, now a reminder of the ache in his heart. Qui-Gon had never accepted him. He had never been sure, but now he knew.

"Yet spoken highly of you he has," Yoda said gently. "His padawan you have been for almost two years, now."

"He is a kind man," he murmured. "That is why I ask to be released. If he were less so, perhaps I could continue as his learner, content to take instruction from such a teacher. But - I make his heart hurt. I betrayed him, as did my predecessor. His heart can never forgive me. He himself has said so. I do not wish to hurt him, and I know now I do. I only do what I must."

Obi-Wan expected a lecture on letting go, of avoiding attachments. He had arguments ready, should he need to speak them. He expected Yoda would not easily agree to his request.

The little master was silent. It was all too apparent that Obi-Wan truly believed that Qui-Gon had rejected him; he sensed the absolute despair the boy felt. Something real was behind it – some terrible misunderstanding, probably – but there was cause for the boy's fears. No idle anxiety was it, born out of harsh words. The boy had felt something, knew something, that had him convinced that Qui-Gon had indeed rejected him. He _knew_, and Yoda wondered just what that something was that had broken the boy's spirit.

No, the boy wasn't just hurt; he was heartbroken and determined to proceed as he thought best. Stubborn, too – the padawan was almost as stubborn as the master.

To Obi-Wan's surprise, Yoda only grumbled deep in his throat as he peered into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Meditate on this I will, speak with Qui-Gon when he is better. No hurry there is, time there will be before Qui-Gon recovers enough to resume your training, or to acquiesce to your release."

Obi-Wan merely nodded. He had expected his talk with Yoda to be difficult, but the little master had chosen to be agreeable to this extraordinary request from a mere junior padawan. Switching masters was almost unheard of, and never initiated by the padawan alone. It always followed much discussion and thought.

Yoda's eyes were troubled as he watched Obi-Wan leave. He would have to think carefully on what he wished to do and let the Force guide him.

Obi-Wan returned to the healers ward and made sure that Qui-Gon was asleep before slipping into the room to sit by the sick man's side. He stared at the face he knew so well; pale and sweaty, yet looking infinitely better than it had previously. The bedding was less disarranged; too, perhaps his master's fever was finally breaking.

He laid a gentle hand on his master's temple and nodded. Yes, the Force ran smoother in his master's mind. He was getting better, and would soon be released to his quarters to finish recuperating. Obi-Wan didn't know if he was pleased or not, for that moment would only hasten the end of their relationship.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered. "I do hope you feel better shortly, even though…I need to – to set you free. I can't bear to keep hurting you like this, and I will leave as soon as I can."

* * *

Having been released by the healers, Qui-Gon was astonished to find no Obi-Wan waiting outside his room to take his arm and insist on helping him from the healers ward to their own quarters. Not that he needed assistance, for the healers would not have released him had that been so, but his padawan was so – so darned solicitous sometimes – that he was often torn between laughter and irritation at his nursemaid of a padawan.

He owed the boy an apology, for he now remembered what had transpired on the planet. His poor, faithful padawan, who had only done what he had seen was necessary and right, and been chewed out for it. Obi-Wan had accepted his undeserved rebuke silently, though his face had flamed before turning white and roiling coils of suppressed shame had lingered behind his rapid retreat when he had been dismissed.

Qui-Gon was more than a little ashamed of himself, though it had been the fever in him speaking. An older Jedi would have accepted his words with greater equanimity, but Obi-Wan was still a boy and not yet experienced enough to separate true words from fevered ones. He had been hurt by them, and probably taken them to heart.

Discussing this would be a good lesson for them both. Obi-Wan needed to learn to let angry and hurtful words roll off him without hurt by seeing behind them to the motivation, and he needed to know that even a Jedi master – _his master_ - could be wrong and find it necessary to apologize. And one sorely troubled Jedi master needed to learn to think on his words before speaking.

No doubt about it, he _had_ been disappointed in the boy, but it was an unjustified disappointment. Now that he was thinking straight, he was rather pleased at Obi-Wan's initiative. His padawan had kept his focus on the mission, as he should, despite his concerns.

He had fussed over and generally devoted his attention to his angry and sick master once the decision to replace the team had been made by the Council, and Obi-Wan accepted his reprimand and punishment without protest.

He knew Obi-Wan's greatest fear was of disappointing his master. He needed to reassure the boy that he had done the correct thing.

Thinking of the amends he needed to make to his padawan, Qui-Gon started to feel uneasy. Now that he thought of it, he couldn't even remember the last time he had seen Obi-Wan. He remembered, barely, seeing his face swim in front of his eyes during his fever, but he hadn't seen his padawan since the fever had broken and that was beyond astonishing – that was worrisome.

Maybe Obi-Wan was down with the same fever! That accounted for it – that had to be the reason. He nearly panicked at the thought, and it took two healers to assure him that Obi-Wan was not lying sick in another room, needing his master's reassurance and comfort.

Puzzled, but mightily relieved, Qui-Gon slowly made his way to his quarters, looking forward to seeing the bright eyes and studious face of his young apprentice.

But there was no Obi-Wan waiting for him in their quarters, either, and Qui-Gon frowned, not knowing what to think. There was a hot pot of tea waiting for him and a warmed blanket over the sofa. It looked like Obi-Wan had made things ready for his return and been called away just before Qui-Gon's arrival. With a shrug, Qui-Gon poured a cup of tea and sat down, grateful for the warm blanket. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep and was awakening – to a fresh pot of tea, but no padawan anywhere in sight.

"Obi-Wan?" he called, a frown creasing his forehead, but there was no response. He shook his head wearily. He would worry about this later. He drank some more tea and went to bed, noting it was freshly made up and a fresh vase of flowers stood at his bedside. His face softened, for Obi-Wan knew how attuned he was to the Living Force, and how fresh flowers would cheer his spirits as he continued recuperating

He crawled into bed, and just before he fell asleep, he thought he sensed the faint and lingering Force signature of his padawan in the room. He traced it to the foot of his bed. Obi-Wan had slept there in his absence, and he felt a pang in his heart. Despite Obi-Wan's hurt and dismay at his master's unwarranted disapproval, he had sought comfort from something that reminded him of his master.

He knew the Force had truly blessed him with such a padawan. He would have to try to unbend enough to be sure Obi-Wan knew how much he appreciated him, though if the boy didn't know it already, he ought to. He was certainly perceptive enough.

When he awoke the next morning and slowly made his way into the common room, he found another pot of tea and some hot cereal waiting for him. He thought he saw a flash of a sand-colored tunic out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to see, but there was no young man with bright, laughing eyes smiling at him, taking delight in befuddling a sick Jedi master. He was alone. Still alone, and a little shocked at how lonely he felt.

Grumbling softly to himself, Qui-Gon checked Obi-Wan's room, but it was empty. So was the refresher. Probably gone to his classes – he had lost track of the days and wasn't even sure what day it was. He would see his padawan later.

There was nothing on his schedule to keep him up, no padawan he needed to put up a front of perfect health to. He was still weak and shaky from his sickness; he would return to his bed and nap. Sleep, healing sleep was all he needed now.

When he woke, he smelled food – hot and good – waiting for him. He padded out to the common room. "Obi-Wan," he called, smiling at the thought of seeing the young companion he sorely missed, only to stop short as he saw the tray of food waiting for him. But no Obi-Wan held it. It sat on the table, alone.

Waiting for one confused and lonely Jedi master.


	6. Chapter 6Broken Hearts and Broken Dreams

**Chapter Six Broken Hearts and Broken Dreams**

He was still alone, a master adrift without his padawan.

For several years now, they had been a team, Jinn and Kenobi, Master and Padawan, companions-in-arms, even friends. He had grown comfortable with Obi-Wan at his side. Now, the empty spot at his side was an aching reminder of what he had come to rely on.

The sight of Obi-Wan's first grin of the day, after the sleep was rubbed from his eyes, started his morning. The whispered, "good night, Master," was a quiet end to an often hectic day. His day began and ended with his padawan, no matter their paths during the daytime hours.

Now his day was empty, as was the day before, and perhaps the day to follow, all for the lack of his personal individual sunrise and sunset, the quiet moments he so cherished in a life filled with so few.

And Qui-Gon was at a loss as to the reason why.

While he didn't understand what was going on, he knew that something was very wrong. Obi-Wan seemed to be avoiding him, while at the same time still trying dutifully to take care of him. Such a thing had never happened, and he wasn't entirely convinced such a thing could happen. But something strange was going on, and he had a feeling that he wouldn't like to know what. He had no idea what was wrong or how to fix it, if so.

He hadn't seen Obi-Wan in two days now, and he was starting to get worried. Really worried, for there was always fresh hot food waiting for him at mealtime, or a pot of hot tea when he awoke from his nap. Try as he might, he could not catch Obi-Wan, or even a sight of him. There was only the merest hint of his Force signature, as if he slipped in and out quickly. This was no prank, he was quite sure. Obi-Wan would never dream of pulling such a stunt on his master, let alone a master still recuperating. In fact, he would be horrified to be thought capable of such a thing.

Before he quite decided on what to do, Yoda stopped by to see how he was doing.

"Glad I am to see you on your feet," Yoda said, sitting down and leaning on his stick, staring at Qui-Gon with wise eyes, and almost a frown on his face. While he didn't know why, he felt compelled to comply with the boy's request that he speak to Qui-Gon.

"No gladder than I," Qui-Gon responded. He hated to lie flat in bed as he recovered, though he had tried to force himself to do so. He remained on his feet. "You haven't seen my padawan have you – I haven't seen Obi-Wan in several days."

He knew he sounded worried, and that Yoda had heard the strain in his voice, for those ears of his had swiveled at the grating edge in his voice. He was probably surprised at Qui-Gon's concern, for within the confines of the Temple, there was no need to fear.

But fear he did, for his missing padawan. Inexplicably missing, and dearly missed.

He still found the boy's absence disturbing. He hadn't seen Obi-Wan since that strange period of seeming lucidity in an otherwise feverish few days. He remembered talking with Obi-Wan, and something tugged at his mind – some memory, or fever dream – of his padawan's stricken face: hurt and rejection filling those luminous eyes. He hadn't - couldn't have - said anything to hurt Obi-Wan so deeply that he had driven him away, had he?

The boy was sometimes too easily hurt, he was afraid, but he was quick to release his hurt and even quicker to forgive. Quicker than a far more experienced and calm Jedi master, who could take lessons from his apprentice, and one who was rapidly losing what calm he had.

If it wasn't harsh words – what would make Obi-Wan not haunt his side, worried eyes watching his every move? It was sometimes; he shook his head for he had not the word, the devotion the boy showed him that occasionally troubled him. Obi-Wan was conscientious almost to a fault; a dutiful boy, and deeply compassionate though he often hid that under a dry wit or laughing comment.

It just wasn't like Obi-Wan to just disappear, when his master was still sick, or not to be there to greet him upon his return to his own quarters. Indeed, he had expected the waiting hot tea and warm blankets to be there, but to be there in the hands of his padawan. Not left waiting ready for him.

He couldn't even think of anything he had or might have said to cause Obi-Wan to avoid him or bring such misery as he might have seen in those eyes: even what reprimands had ever been necessary had never done more than brought momentary shame or embarrassment to the boy. Young man, he reminded himself. Obi-Wan was not a boy, nor yet a man.

"Seen him I have," Yoda said, clearing his throat.

That couldn't be good. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and sat down abruptly. "And?"

"Concerned for you he is. Asked, he has, to be released from your instruction, a new master to seek."

This wasn't just "not good;" this shook his entire being. Obi-Wan knew the consequences – should another master not step forward and accept him, Obi-Wan might as well resign from the Order and leave it – him – behind forever.

"But – but why?" he whispered. Not even Xanatos' turning had shocked him to this degree.

"Speak to him you should, find out what is in his heart," Yoda said cryptically. "Let him know what is in yours, you should."

"My heart?" Qui-Gon stared in astonishment. "I don't understand…I've been sick, what does my heart have to do with anything? What has happened – has something happened to Obi-Wan?"

"In good health he is, but in his heart – a wound he has taken," Yoda answered calmly. "Heal it you can, if you wish to. Send him in, I will." With that, the little master took his leave, leaving a sorely puzzled Jedi Master behind.

* * *

"Spoken to Qui-Gon, I have," Yoda told the young Jedi, waiting outside the quarters. "His answer to you, it will be."

Obi-Wan looked pale and uncertain, his face drawn. "Must I face him?" he asked calmly, though his heart beat fast at the thought of facing his master.

"Your wish it is, his to grant, it is. Why, he has a right to know," Yoda said quietly. He leaned on his stick, his eyes searching Obi-Wan's. "Certain of this, you are, young Obi-Wan? Once done, there is no going back."

"Master Yoda, I ask this for his sake," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I accept the consequences."

"A Jedi Knight you will never be, should no new master accept you," Yoda pointed out gently. He knew how much Obi-Wan wanted to be a Jedi. He knew, too, that it seemed the young man's destiny – even the will of the Force, and he didn't understand what had suddenly gone so wrong. He knew only that the young man was determined, hurting and following his heart rather than his head. His heart was leading him astray from the will of the Force. Or, just perhaps, the two were working together in an unexpected way.

"I understand." The eyes were pained, but accepting. "Some things are more important than what one wishes." Obi-Wan was well aware of the consequences, and determined anyway. Yoda sighed.

"The Force, listen to it you must Obi-Wan," he said earnestly. "Afraid, do not be – truthful, you must be – speak your heart and all will be well. The Force will be with you." He watched, as Obi-Wan entered his quarters, there to remain as a padawan, or to leave it, his future uncertain.


	7. Chapter 7Let Your Heart Speak

Thanks to all who've reviewed (or even just lurked and enjoyed). I find it a bit - interesting - that my earlier stuff seems better received than my later - it is simpler, for sure, and at least for the JA stories, more what I personally call "juveniles." My definition might not be yours: to me, "juvvies" are often superficial, don't delve deeply into motivations and deep characterization, and are more "light reading" entertainment than stories to provoke contemplation or discussion.

Unfortunately for fans of such stories, I'm not sure I could return to that style of writing should I wish to. It's almost a "by the numbers" writing with our characters perhaps learning some things, but not really growing through out the story.

Then again, I'm finding it difficult to write anything nowadays, so perhaps a more "by the numbers" is what I need to attempt.

And here we conclude with sentiment overflowing into pure, unadulterated overdone mush that almost makes me cringe with its high sugar content. Don't forget to brush your teeth upon completion..

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**Chapter 7 Let Your Heart Speak And All Will Be Well**

"Padawan." Qui-Gon nodded coolly, as Obi-Wan entered the room, flushing a bit but with his head held high. He couldn't believe what Yoda had told him, yet here was his padawan, no bright eyes flashing at him, an air of - almost, defeat – about him. Hurt, perhaps he expected, but – defeat?

At first he wanted to jump to his feet and hug the young man close, ask his forgiveness for the harsh words he had flung at him – then he remembered that Obi-Wan was hurting him, betraying him. He was the one wronged. The Jedi master was suddenly angry, but struggling to understand what had suddenly gone so wrong between them.

"Thank you for making me comfortable." He had to take refuge in small talk for he honestly had no idea what he wished to say, or how to reach this young man he had thought he had known so well – one who now wished to leave him. He felt like a dagger had been stuck in his heart and twisted, and Obi-Wan seemed not to know it. His cool blue-gray eyes merely looked at Qui-Gon without expression – those eyes that usually danced with mirth or looked so earnest in thought.

"Yoda said you wish to be released," Qui-Gon said calmly, though inside his heart beat frantically, asking _why, why_? "I would like to know your reason, before I can consider giving my consent."

Obi-Wan actually flinched; lashes dropping to hide his eyes, to hide a hurt he didn't wish to reveal. But the dropping of his chin, the blood rushing from his face to leave it pale and still, rang warning bells in Qui-Gon's mind. Obi-Wan was _upset_. Obi-Wan didn't really wish for this to happen, though it was by his own request. It was his master's apparent calm willingness to discuss it that seemed to deepen his feeling that it must happen, and caused this sudden burst of pain that had surged through the Force.

"Is it necessary I speak why, Master? I do not wish to continue hurting you." His head hung down; his eyes would not meet Qui-Gon's.

"Continue – hurting me? Me?" For a moment, Qui-Gon could only stare in astonishment and dismay. He was suddenly scared, for what could make Obi-Wan want to avoid his eyes and hide his feelings? Obi-Wan's reluctance to speak – to trust him with what was in his heart – the fear in his own, turned his next words harsh and biting, angry.

"What hurts me is your wish to break the bond – what have I done for you to wish to take this action?"

"Nothing, Master. It is I who…hurts you. I wish to spare you further pain."

So be it. Neither of them would speak what was in their hearts; their eyes would not meet in sudden understanding. The bond was already smothered in hurt silence.

That silence between them hovered, grew, stifled the words either might have spoken. Impasse. Finality.

Ob-Wan raised his head and his lashes blinked against tears.

For a minute, a heartbeat and more, the two merely looked at each other. Neither could find words to breach the growing distance between them. That lack of words would be the final cut, they both knew. Time stilled, yet still it passed, until, with a pained swallow, Obi-Wan turned to leave. Qui-Gon watched him go, each step taking him further and further out of his life, away from him – and he knew he couldn't just let it end like this.

However much it might hurt, he had to know why. Why was Obi-Wan's hand on the hilt of the dagger stuck in his heart? Why was Obi-Wan leaving him?

"Padawan," he tried to call, but the words would not leave his throat. Obi-Wan was at the door, was walking through it, shoulders bowed. He was almost gone. He was – gone, one step already into the hallway, the other almost. Qui-Gon panicked.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered, hoping the young man could hear him, would stop to listen. "I can't let you go without knowing why. I need to know why you must break my heart."

"It is your heart I wish to protect," Obi-Wan said quietly. He stood in the doorway; shoulders slumped, just as unwilling to walk through it as Qui-Gon was for him to do so.

Qui-Gon's connection to the Living Force was telling him to open himself, be vulnerable, and to make it safe for Obi-Wan to be vulnerable in return. He was closed off, unreadable now, yet Qui-Gon could feel the pain radiating from him. They were two Jedi, joined by heartache and pain. Two Jedi, who needed each other, and couldn't - wouldn't say so.

Stubborn, both of them. Hurting, both of them. Scared, both of them. They were supposed to be Jedi – he was a master, by Force – and he couldn't let this happen.

"I can't let you go, Obi-Wan. I need you." Somehow, the words came out through a throat suddenly dry, in contrast to the eyes suddenly moist.

"But you don't want me." Anguish flared like a wave through the Force. It catapulted Qui-Gon to his feet, to lay his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders and turn the boy about, to force his face to meet his. Those blue-gray eyes never lied to him; they revealed his padawan's every thought and every emotion, no matter the shields protecting his mind.

Now they showed nothing but pain, lashes sparkling silver with unshed tears. Blue-gray eyes, swimming in hurt.

Obi-Wan was protecting himself, and thought he was protecting Qui-Gon, from some heartache. Instead, he was creating it, in both of them. Something was a sharp ache stabbing his heart that he wished to dull, by pulling it out, by walking away. _But he has so much courage in him, why does he flinch from this? _Qui-Gon's hands tightened on the slim shoulders. Obi-Wan merely looked at him, tense and unhappy.

What had so wounded his bright and loving boy? Stolen his spirit?

_Tell him, be open and honest_, the Force surged through Qui-Gon. _No, no I can't, I need to remain calm_, Qui-Gon protested inwardly. _Tell him, or you will lose him, here, now, forever_, the Force commanded.

"Why do you say that, young one?" _You could lose him forever_…._oh merciful Force_, _no!_ What had Yoda said? Let him know what is in your heart. _In his heart, a wound he has taken! _

"Obi-Wan, please – see into my heart. Let me into yours." He deliberately lowered his shields, further than he had ever done. _Please, Obi-Wan, don't let it be too late. Please don't let me lose you like this – without knowing why_.

He felt inexplicable joy as Obi-Wan's barriers slowly crumbled, but they were still there, masking Obi-Wan's hurt. He still had need of words.

"I know you can never love me as you loved – him, Master. You are not ready to love again, and I can never be the one you love. Someday you might be ready, and I hope you find a padawan who brings you joy and love, everything you want and deserve. Someone who won't betray you as I did – as we both did. I never wanted to betray you, never."

His padawan's barriers continued to crumble; the last barrier shattered under his anguished mind-thought. _I love you enough to leave you, to ease your heart. For it is not enough for you that I love you…it hurts too much to know how much I hurt you, how you watch me…how much I disappoint you – and how you think I betrayed you._

Under the weight of that pain and that love, Qui-Gon had to close his eyes and nourish the flicker of the Force coming from his padawan, before opening them and letting his heart guide his words.

"I do love you, Obi-Wan," he said softly, his eyes steady on Obi-Wan's own. The words caught in his throat, he put out shaking hands to hold Obi-Wan still before him.

_Believe me, I tried not to. I didn't want to be hurt again. I thought I never wanted to love again, that I never could. I was wrong. You showed me how. I do love you, padawan mine, and it would break my heart if you left me. What can I say to change your mind?_

"But, but you told me – you said…."

Qui-Gon heard the uncertainty, the yearning in that voice, and gently urged Obi-Wan to set his fear free. He sent a Force wave through their bond, filling it with warmth and acceptance. _Tell me, my young one_.

"You told me to go away…and then you said I wasn't him and would never be. You said you didn't want me and that I betrayed you! It's true, I felt every word through the Force when it hit me."

Qui-Gon's heart contracted at that simple statement, filled with such despair and anguish. _I could not have said that – it's not true. It's not_…and then he remembered the words, the all too true words, but with an entirely different meaning. He remembered little else of that time, sweating, tossing and turning, mumbling – but he remembered as he saw what Obi-Wan remembered, and how hurt the boy had been….

Obi-Wan had insisted on staying beside him, wiping his face every so often with a cool cloth, sending tendrils of the Force to calm his fevered mind. He didn't want Obi-Wan to wear himself out, tending to his master, getting sick himself as he had that dreadful time a year ago, when he had been so terribly afraid he would lose him. He had almost lost him, oh Force, he had almost lost him! And he had told – merciful Force – he had told Obi-Wan to go away, and Obi-Wan only heard the words and not the reason behind them…and then, later…

… he was burning, and he saw him, Xani, laughing at him as he slowly drew his lightsaber across Qui-Gon's body, burning him, burning…. He had opened his eyes and saw his apprentice sitting beside him, arm reached out to his face and he had suddenly spoken. Told him to get away, said, "I don't want you. You're not him, you can never be him."

He had told Xanatos to go away; he would never be Obi-Wan. But the words had been said, not to Xanatos, but to Obi-Wan. His padawan heard the words meant for another and thought - ! His beautiful, bright, loving padawan only wanted his master's love and needed his acceptance – that was what the Living Force was telling him!

He let the memory of his own words stab him: his thoughtless, feverish ramblings, the words that almost tore his padawan away from him, and he held that thought close to him for a moment, for he deserved this pain for hurting his padawan so deeply. Feverish words, true, but Obi-Wan hadn't known that; the backlash of emotion through the Force had only seemed to confirm the truth of them. Would Obi-Wan ever believe him? If so, could that belief bring forgiveness?

He slipped to his knees, bringing Obi-Wan with him and wrapped his arms about the boy's slim shoulders, feeling him shake and hold back a sob as he tried not to fall into his master's shoulder, the one that should have always been there for him, the one that comforted the boy that Obi-Wan had once been. A young man now, but one that could still be hurt, and one that needed comfort.

"Oh, my Obi-Wan, you are not him. You misunderstood," he whispered into silky hair, pressed his padawan tight against him, feeling their two heartbeats thumping against each other's chest. "When I told you to go away, I didn't want you to get sick, like before, when I almost lost you – I was so scared of losing you, like I almost did before. And later, later,' he swallowed, "in my fever I saw Xanatos burning me, and I was telling him to go away, that he could never be my Obi-Wan – he could never be you."

He put his hands on either side of Obi-Wan's face, forced him to look into his eyes.

"Xanatos broke my heart. I loved him for many reasons, and mostly for the wrong reasons. But I love you, and the reasons are all the right ones. I loved him for who I thought he was, and who I wanted him to be. Selfish reasons. But I love you for what and who you are: my loving, kind and usually obedient padawan."

He saw the blossoming of hope in his padawan's eyes…continued through a voice thick with emotion.

"I could not let him go, but I love you enough to let you go. If I can't hold onto you, I will let you go, if that is what you truly want."

Obi-Wan closed lashes against eyes soft with tears, trying to believe the words – a tendril of questing Force questioning, finding his master's open heart and held breath – and Obi-Wan silently wrapped his arms around his master and hugged him close.

"I don't want to go, Master," he whispered against Qui-Gon's chest. "I will stay."

"You had better, my brat of a padawan, padawan mine," Qui-Gon whispered, teasingly, for now he knew he had not lost his padawan after all and that they both needed a moment of levity. Indeed, Obi-Wan was smiling, his eyes bright and shining.

Large hands riffled fondly through reddish-brown silky hair, tweaked his nerf-tail, and wiped tears from now serene blue-gray eyes, even as Obi-Wan reached up to brush a tear from Qui-Gon's own eyes. The Jedi wrapped his arms around his padawan and held him close, feeling Obi-Wan's contentment at the embrace as they sat on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered. _I should have opened my heart to you long ago, but I was afraid._

_As was I, _came back through the bond. _But_ _I didn't think I could bear to know the truth_. _And then…you said – and all I wanted to do was spare you pain._

Qui-Gon found himself smiling through tears_. And now? _he gently encouraged_._

_Now, I think I couldn't bear not to know the truth._

And in the hallway outside, a very relieved Jedi master sighed, and hobbled away, a satisfied smile on his face, as thoughts echoed behind him…

"My master."

"Padawan, mine."


End file.
